personal data was considerably more concise. Parents alive and living in North Carolina. No siblings. Wife deceased. No children.
Leaning back in her chair, Jill took a long swig of her coffee. Dr. Richardson’s file painted a portrait of a dedicated, hardworking physician who was also a brilliant research scientist. Nothing in what she’d read suggested a predilection for stargazing.
She’d keep an eye on the doc, she decided. A close eye. Shutting down the screen, she finished her coffee and went back to the Control Center to check the status of her deployed patrols. Just after 1:00 a.m., she called it a night.
“We have a big day tomorrow,” she reminded her dispatchers. “The rest of the test cadre is scheduled to arrive between 8:00 a.m. and noon.”
“We’re ready for ’em,” SFC Denton advised in his Oklahoma drawl. “Our welcome committee will have ’em roped, tied and branded a half hour after they hit the site.”
“Tell the welcome committee to start with Dr. Richardson. I want him tagged first thing in the morning.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
Jill woke before dawn the next morning. She stretched catlike under the sheet and enjoyed the quiet of the boxy modular unit that served as her quarters. She’d had the three-bedroom, one bathroom unit to herself for the past couple of weeks. After today she’d share it with two other female officers.
Her mouth curved in a wry grimace. She wasn’t much for girl talk or gabfests. She hoped the other women weren’t, either. Probably not. One was a Coast Guard officer with several command assignments under her belt. The other a hurricane hunter with the National Oceanographic and Atmospheric Agency.
Thinking of all she had to do to get ready for the onslaught of arrivals, Jill threw back the sheet and padded to the bathroom. After a thorough scrub of face and teeth, she dragged a brush through her straight, blunt-cut bob. The straw-colored strands fell neatly into place thanks to a great cut, just brushing her jawline but well above the top of her uniform collar as required by Army regulations. A slather of lotion to protect her face from the dry New Mexico heat and a quick swipe of lip gloss completed her morning beauty regimen.
Jill had long ago found ways to satisfy her feminine side other than through cosmetics that didn’t mix well with camouflage face paint. Her neatly trimmed nails wore a coat of French-white polish, and her underwear tended more toward lace than spandex. No one could see her frilly undies under her BDUs and T-shirt, so she figured her tough-cop image was safe.
She chose an ice-blue set this morning. The bikini pants were cut low on her belly and high on her thigh. The lacy bra contained no underwiring. She didn’t carry a particularly generous set of curves on her trim frame and saw no need to torture herself with hard-wired cups. Ten minutes after slithering into the slinky underwear, she was booted, bloused, belted and ready for the day.
Six hours later, her uniform had wilted a little in the searing hundred-plus-degree heat, but all eighty-two of the Pegasus cadre members were safely on-site. Helicopters had ferried most of them down from Albuquerque, where they’d flown into either the civilian airport or the Air Force base on the city’s outskirts. A number had driven in, including one of Jill’s new roommates.
Lieutenant Commander Kate Hargrave had thoroughly impressed the gate guards by showing up at the checkpoint in a low-slung, ground-eating XJS. She impressed them even more when she climbed out of the Jag, revealing a pair of long, tanned legs and the lush curves of a Playboy centerfold.
With her troops’ break room right outside her office, Jill couldn’t help but overhear their vivid descriptions of the sexy hurricane hunter. A chance meeting with the woman outside the dining facility where the cadre was gathering for the in-brief proved her troops hadn’t exaggerated.
“Major Bradshaw?”
At the sound of her name, Jill turned to see the tall, leggy redhead weaving her way through the crowd. Since her Navy-style rank of lieutenant commander was the equivalent of Jill’s Army rank of major, the two women shook hands instead of saluting.
“I’m Kate Hargrave. I understand we’re going to be sharing a bathroom for the next few months.”
Hargrave’s crisp, tailored khaki uniform in no way disguised her hourglass figure, but her cheerful smile drew the eye as much as her curves. Jill’s eye, anyway. Most of the males going by kept their gazes well south of her nameplate.
“I haven’t shared a bathroom with anyone since I dumped my jerk of an ex,” the weather officer confessed with a grin. “I hope you don’t spend as much time in there reading the newspaper as he did.”
Jill couldn’t help but respond to that infectious grin. “Not to worry. I doubt any of us will have time to read a newspaper in the next few months.”
“Good. I like to keep busy. From the little I’ve been told about this project so far, we’re all going to have our hands— Whoa!”
The woman’s green eyes widened and fixed on something just over Jill’s shoulder.
“Things just got interesting,” she murmured in a low, throaty purr. “Very interesting.”
Jill turned and saw at once what had snagged her attention. Dr. Cody Richardson was striding across the compound. Public Health Service Officers also wore Navy-style uniforms. Jill had to admit Dr. Richardson wore his khakis extremely well.
The man could have modeled for a recruiting poster. His pants were knife creased, his short-sleeved shirt tailored to maximize the effect of his muscled torso. Black shoulder boards carried the broad gold stripes denoting his rank. The insignia on his cap featured a caduceus crossed with a fouled anchor, denoting the Public Health Service’s original charter to provide medical care to America’s sailors. Beneath his cap, Richardson’s eyes gleamed a killer blue against his tanned skin.
“Who is that?” Kate Hargrave breathed.
“Commander Cody Richardson,” Jill answered. “Public Health Service.”
“That’s the doc who’s going to be taking care of our every little cough and stubbed toe? Well, well.”
“I believe his primary duty will be to test the nuclear, biological and chemical defenses installed in Pegasus.”
Jill had no idea why the response came out sounding so stiff. It wasn’t any skin off her nose if Kate Hargrave wanted to fall all over the man.
As he approached, both women acknowledged his senior rank with a salute. Richardson returned it, gave the redhead a smile, and addressed Jill.
“Good morning, Major.”
She dipped her chin in a polite nod. “Good morning.”
“Sleep well after our little tussle last night?”
From a corner of her eye, she saw her new roommate arch an auburn-tinted brow. Jill kept both her voice and her smile even.
“As a matter of fact, I did.” With a nod at her companion, she performed the introductions. “Have you met Lieutenant Commander Kate Hargrave? Or do you prefer Dr. Hargrave?” she asked the weather officer, mindful of the string of initials after her name.
“In
